You Smiled
by Semblance of Sanity
Summary: "When I saw you I fell in love, you smiled because you knew." Drabble collection of random pairings. Written for the Valentine Drabble Collection Competition. Now complete!
1. Killing the Cat

**First installment of the _You Smiled _Drabble Collection! ****Let's kick it off with some TeddyLily Luna, yes? :) **

**My prompt for this one was 'unconscious.'**

* * *

He had been the one to find her; sprawled out on the floor, a look of horror frozen on her face, her mouth hanging open, and her eyes staring at nothing.

He thought she was the victim of a Killing Curse.

He thought she was dead.

Her brothers, though scared and worried, never missed an opportunity to tease him for screaming - and scream he did.

He had screamed and cried, picked her up and put her back down, hugged her and touched her, until Uncle Harry finally came and told him what to do.

Teddy had never been so scared in his life. And he was 10 years older than her. And they weren't even really related.

As he sat by her hospital bed and did his Auror paperwork, he kept glancing at her face, her stomach.

_Is she still breathing?_

_Is she ok?_

The Healers said she'd wake up in two days and not to worry, but what did they know? Uncle Harry should have called in a specialist. This was Lily they were talking about! What if she had internal damage or something?

Uncle Harry said that she'd be ok - his uncle Sirius had told him about a time when he had opened the golden box as well. It was apparently a trinket from Grimmauld Place, intended to punish the opener for their curiosity; curiosity _had_ killed the cat, after all. Lily would wake up a week later, and remember everything that had happened.

"She can hear you, Teddy," he had said gently. "Why don't you talk to her?"

But Teddy hadn't said a word to her the whole five days she'd been unconscious, afraid he'd say something stupid that would ruin their relationship forever, like "I love you" or "Don't leave me." But he did hold her hand. Everyday.

He hoped she'd understand.

She woke up two days later with his name on her lips.

He figured they'd be okay.

* * *

**I'll be posting more because its fun to go out of your comfort zone (pairing-wise), but review anyway? :)**


	2. Murderous Microwaves

**Number Two: Dudley/Pansy! Hehe, I actually don't mind these two together. They could fit :)**

**My prompt for this was 'sleepless at midnight.'**

* * *

"We're not friends..." Harry had told him all those years ago when Dudley had asked. It was an answer that answered nothing, and Dudley had always wondered:

1. _Why didn't he like her?_

And 2. _Was there something inherently wrong with Pansy Parkinson that no one had told him?_

She seemed perfectly normal to him - except that_ one thing_, of course. But no one ever need know about _that_. Certainly not his mother.

But Harry knew, and wasn't there some sort of weird bond/love/relationship/union that made all of _them_ best friends or something?

"So what was wrong with her?" he wondered aloud on a Tuesday, alone in his office in a building that sold drills, and his assistant did not hear him because she was flirting with the pizza delivery man. He pushed the intercom and shouted at her to "_bring in my lunch already!_", all thoughts of stupid Harry Potter and his stupid options gone.

But then, when he lay staring at the ceiling 12 hours later, he remembered. _And why didn't Harry like his girlfriend?!_

Pansy had told him all about the war - Harry pretended it never happened - and, sure, that was a bit disturbing, but that was 8 years ago, surely everyone had moved on?

Dudley had the ring all picked out, his speech written - and neatly shoved into a drawer at his office. He was going to propose on Valentine's Day, because Dad told him women liked sentimental things like that.

He could picture the two of them: he would come home and ask her about her day and she'd tell him, and he'd always be impressed, because even Receptionist at the Ministry of Magic sounded intimidating. She would ask about his day and he'd tell her, and she'd be confused but proud because he made good money, even if she didn't know what anyone would need drills for.

They would be dealing with the culture shock well into old age - Dudley had insisted she disguise him when she dragged him to some sort of wizard Olympics that looked like football on brooms, for fear that someone _ordinary_ would recognize him amongst the freaks; and she had blown up the microwave at his office Christmas party, claiming it was trying to assassinate her - but Dudley didn't mind. He'd never admit it, but he had grown fond of certain wizard habits.

And having a wizard wife would get him out of mowing the lawn.

Dudley loved Pansy, and Pansy loved Dudley. That should be all that matters. That _was _all that mattered. So why did Harry's dislike _matter_ so much?

It didn't, and that was that.

Perhaps he should ring Harry...

Perhaps he would.

Perhaps in the morning.

* * *

**Anyone like them as much as I do?**


	3. Amputated Flowers

**FredAngelina, post-War. My prompt was sunset, but honestly, I wrote this out in 5 minutes and barely remembered that I needed a prompt. So I found one that worked and threw it in. I'm quite proud of this, actually.**

* * *

She stands there, staring at the name for what seems like hours. Finally, and with a sigh, she sits and stares some more.

_Don't you have someplace to fly off to?_ She smiles.

"I took the day off."

_Just for me?_

"Just for you."

She looks down at the flowers: blue, green, and pink. She brings one more every year. He would have liked these ones; all bright and wild. She smells them each, slowly and surely, to see if each color smelled different - because that's what he would have done. They didn't.

She should put them down, arranged all nice and pretty next to the ones the Weasley's had left, but she holds on to them a little tighter. She could put them down when she left.

_I don't know why you insist on bringing me FLOWERS, Angie. I'm not a girl._ But he would put them in a vase anyway, because it would be _barbaric_ to amputate them and then let them whither.

Angelina laughed, even as she started to cry. "Oh, Fred. Why'd you have to leave me?"

_I know! A crying shame, it is, denying the world these flawless genes!_

She was certain anyone passing by would think her mad as she laughed to the point of crying, crying to the point of laughing, but she could hardly bring herself to care. The Weasley Twins were the funniest act this side of Britain, and she had herself a private showing starring the best half. She intended to stay 'till sunset. The rest of the world was missing out.

* * *

**Aaaand cue the feels!**


	4. Not Gay

**Just barely passed the minimum with this one. DudleyPiers. Prompt: vague. **

* * *

_This isn't like that_, they always insisted. _We aren't gay. We are just..._

_Learning._

_Teaching._

_Growing._

_Messing around._

_Experimenting._

To their mums, they were just wrestling. Being boys. Being strong.

To their classmates, they were just being "funny."

No one needed to know the truth. And if they did...well. Dudley would smash their face in. Piers would give them a wedgie so hard they would seriously doubt their ability to reproduce after that.

It would be fine. They would be fine.

Honestly, who cares if their definition was vague? It made sense to them.

It's not like they were in love.

_Right?_

* * *

******Honestly, I like DudleyPansy better, and I had an extremely difficult time writing these two. That being said, I'm proud of this attempt, even if I'm not happy with it. **


	5. Barfights and Shampoo Factories

**RonLuna. Prompt: Garden**

* * *

She was crazy. Everyone knew it. But it was a _good_ crazy, not _Bellatrix Lestrange_-crazy, so he loved her anyway.

Honestly, sometimes he thought would have loved her even if she was.

She was gentle and carefree. Untamed, but content. Like her garden with her wacky plants.

He let her plant her dirigible plums in her garden (and the Snargaluff, and the Gurdyroots), and she let him put his feet up on the coffee table and leave his broom in the entryway. She would tell him all about her stories and latest superstitions and insist they follow them to the letter. And he would, because how would he know if they were real or not? They might be, you know!

He would tell her about his day at the Ministry, and she would agree that Harry was impossible and Draco was a prick, pardoned or not.

They would go on picnics to who-knows-where to get whatchamacallits for her why-are-we-here-again's. He would get them lost and covered in what-the-bloody-hell's, and she'd Apparate them into a lake because she was thinking about how to paint the different colors.

He'd get into bar fights and insult his friends when she went out of town for a story, because he's angry and they looked at me funny and it wasn't _my_ fault; you gotta believe me, Luna!

He'd chase a suspect to Egypt and come home to a homemade shampoo factory, because idle hands are...I can't remember - it's a Muggle saying - but we use shampoo, right, Ron?

They were as strong as they were united; they were curiosity and strength, freedom and awareness, creativity and skepticism, burdened and without a care.

They _fit._

* * *

**Less proud of this one, but I actually like them now! They're kinda cute!**


	6. That Tree, Hair, and Spotlights

**LockhartNarcissa. Prompt: Whomping Willow.**

* * *

It started as a mutual dislike of _that tree_. It was hideous, they agreed, identical frowns in place as they watched it being planted, and made a pact then and there to ignore its presence as much as possible.

It was as they sat outside, doing their homework in the sun-warmed grass - backs to the offending tree that didn't exist, of course - that they stumbled upon their mutual adoration of hair products. It was rare to find a boy who appreciated nice hair, and rarer still to find a girl who didn't think that was gay.

It was when the Charms project they stole from Frank Longbottom won them an interview with _The Daily Prophet_ that they recognized their mutual love of the spotlight.

It was destiny, they decided mutually.

* * *

**Short and sweet ;)**


	7. Seriously Immature

**OliverBlaise. Prompt: immature. I decided to write this one in all dialogue. Let's see how it turns out, yeah? Starts out with Blaise talking.**

* * *

"I don't understand what the problem is!"

"You don't-"

"I came to the party! I was good! I behaved!"

"You behaved? You _behaved_?! Blaise, you laughed when my Aunt Ingrid got stuck in the doorway!"

"I helped get her out, didn't I?"

"That's not the point! You laughed!"

"Well it was _funny_. She shouldn't eat that much."

"Oh my-"

"'Oh my' what? What _now_?"

"I get a lot of crap for dating a Slytherin, you know. A Slytherin _Death Eater_, at that."

"_Former_ Death Eater! If you weren't okay with that then you shouldn't have -"

"No. No. I'm sorry; that wasn't what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I just...you're just..."

"What?"

"Immature. My parents want me to be serious with someone."

"We _are_ serious, Oliver."

"But my parents don't understand that! They think we are just messing around. They think it's just a phase."

"It's not."

"Well, _I_ know that."

"I've _very_ serious about you, Oliver."

"Blaise..."

"Do you need me to show you just how serious I am?"

"I don't think that now is the time to-"

"Oh, I think it's the perfect time."

"Blaise. Blaise. Blaise, we have that thing in an hour -"

"Oliver."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."


	8. We Are All Sane Here

**RabastanBarty Jr.! Little sappy, little angsty, little lovey. Prompt: fountain. **

* * *

There he was, wavering on his feet, his eyes wild and unfocused, and it was all Barty could do to refrain from sweeping Rabastan into his arms and kissing him until he couldn't breathe.

But he didn't, because Lord Voldemort was watching and that could result in both of their deaths. And he wasn't about to die _now_.

Rabastan stumbled, and Barty was there, holding him tight but not suspiciously so.

Rabastan found his face and his eyes focused. He smiled; small, surprised, and suppressed; and reached a shaking hand up to touch Barty's face, but settled for clutching the front of his robes instead.

"Not dead then?" he asked, his voice hoarse and cracked, thick as quicksand and painful as sandpaper.

Barty just shook his head, willing his eyes to convey his regret for leaving Rabastan in Azkaban, but Rabastan just looked away, patting Barty's chest unevenly.

He keeled forward suddenly, vomiting all over his bare feet and Barty's expensive black leather shoes. Bellatrix cackled from somewhere in the crowd, and Lord Voldemort frowned in their direction.

"Junior," he snapped. "Take him to the fountain and clean up this mess."

"Yes, m'lord!" His mouth said, as his heart sung thanks to whatever deities there might be. He clutched Rabastan closer and murmured Cleaning Charms as they walked.

Rabastan touched the water tentatively, looking back at Barty with a small grin before throwing himself in. His prison garments billowed about him, staining the water gray. He came up, his black hair long over his face, and spitted a mouthful of the water into the air.

Barty laughed, genuine and loud, and perched on the edge. He motioned Rabastan to sit by his feet, and he did. A few charms and a few wand flicks later, clumps of Rabastan's hair floated around the fountain.

Rabastan turned around, grabbed the back of Barty's neck, and kissed him. Hard.

They stood there for a while, and Barty looked over Rabastan's face, trailing his fingertips over his cheekbones, long nose, sunken cheeks, haunted eyes, and Harry-Potter-worthy wild hair.

"I missed you," he whispered, mere inches from Rabastan's mouth.

Rabastan smiled. "I missed you too. Glad you're not dead."

"Me too."

* * *

***sings happily* Sorta proud of this one! Sorta proud of this one!**

**I don't _like _it, but I'm "proud" of the fact that I actually got it out. **

**Beginning this was _hard_. I kept putting them off. I just couldn't figure out how to write it! I mean, Dudley and Piers was easier than this! **

**So, I'll pat myself on the back even though its not actually good. ;)**


	9. Ice Cream Kisses

**LilyNarcissa. I kept putting this one off...but here it is! Prompt: Flourish & Blotts.**

* * *

She spun around slowly, smiling as she inhaled deeply. This had been her favorite shop in Diagon Alley since she was a child. It was the smell, she thought, or the books, or perhaps the idea of fresh ink on a fresh scroll. It was...magical.

She had met Narcissa here, all those years ago. That wasn't the reason she loved the shop, but it certainly helped.

The object of her thoughts came striding down the aisle toward her, frowning down at an offending scroll. Lily smiled. "They didn't have the right one?"

"Not in stock. Said it would take a week to fly here. Can you believe that? A _week_! The service here, honestly!" Narcissa huffed. Lily turned red.

"Oh, come on, Cisa; it'll still be here before school starts. Calm down. The world hasn't ended," Lily scolded, looking around at the heads that turned.

Narcissa glared at Lily. "I don't see how you can be okay with this! Yours won't even be in until the second week and -"

"Well, mine is handcrafted. It takes time. It's an art."

Narcissa clenched her jaw and breathed out through her nose. "Come on, let's go." Lily shook her head.

"I'm not done yet."

"I don't want to stay here-"

"Then leave. I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron later."

"But we-"

"_Goodbye_, Cisa," Lily said forcefully, walking to the nonfiction section to cement their farewell. Narcissa left a minute later, muttering under her breath.

Lily rolled her eyes. Narcissa could be such a drama queen. Why'd she have to go and ruin Lily's good mood?

Ten minutes later, Lily was still frowning at the nonfiction section. The wizards on the biographies waved at her, trying to get her attention, but she didn't notice. They gave up and talked amongst themselves, their chatter annoying her further. She felt ready to cry.

A tap on the window finally got her attention. Narcissa stood on the other side of the glass, holding two ice cream cones in her hand, her chin held high and her face devoid of emotion. She held up a cone with light brown ice cream and Lily quirked an eyebrow, waving goodbye to the biographies as she left.

"Coffee?" she asked as Narcissa handed her the cone.

"Yes." Narcissa stared her strawberry one intently.

"My favorite."

"I know."

"Thanks."

They walked to a bench and sat in silence.

Narcissa sighed. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"I'm sorry for ruining your book time."

"It's ok. Thanks for remembering my favorite ice cream," Lily smiled.

"I love you," Narcissa said, seriously.

"I know," Lily reminded her.

Narcissa nodded. Lily leaned over and gave her an ice cream kiss. Narcissa wrinkled her nose and swiped it away. Lily laughed.

"I love you too," she mumbled.

"I know."

* * *

**Went all Han and Leia on ya there ;)**


	10. Magnetic Hearts

**Written in the wee hours of the morning as inspiration struck - finally. Prompt: Overlook. Well, technically. But also inspired by the prompt "first kiss," which I also got. I just wrote it with overlook in mind. It's confusing and I'm tired shhh.**

* * *

It wasn't as though he hadn't noticed her before - they had been in the same circles; they had the same friends.

It was just that he hadn't _noticed_ her before. Not like this. And he could not stop watching.

She twirled in the snow, laughing when she fell, just lying there and holding out her tongue to catch the snowflakes, and he felt like he would implode from the magnitude of the gravitational pull her heart seemed to have on his.

He bent over and kissed her. She gasped her surprise into his mouth and he pulled away, staring down at her. She gaped up at him, all big brown eyes and red lipstick, and he loved her.

How had he overlooked this before?

* * *

**I don't know, Terry, how had you? Have you? Idk shhh.**


	11. Warts and Jelly Legs

**ColinGinny, prompt: first kiss. **

* * *

Bravery. Courage. That's what distinguished one from the other houses. That's what made you a Gryffindor.

No one saw it in him, but she did. Sure, he was timid, and slightly annoying too, but he cared. He understood her. And he _was_ brave, but in small ways, so no one noticed.

She remembered one time when he had stepped between her and Blaise Zabini during a fight, ending up with warts _and_ jelly legs. He said he didn't want anyone to get in trouble for dueling in the hallway.

She had kissed him for the first time that night.

.

"Just stay here!" she had begged him as she ran from the Room of Requirement. She could handle herself, no problem; it was him she was worried about. His enthusiasm had always made up for his lack of talent, yes, but enthusiasm didn't buy you quick reflexes in battle.

She should have known he would come anyway.

Blaise found his body.

.

She didn't cry. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

_He would have cried for you._

_._

_._

_._

He'd understand.


	12. To Be

**JamesPetunia. Prompt: share. Okay, so 'share' isn't actually _in_ the fic, but I wrote it with sharing in mind. **

**Side note: I had a horrible time writing this. It's been in the works for about a week? Or maybe it just feels like a week?**

* * *

Lily didn't understand, and that wasn't okay because neither did James, and he needed her to explain it to him, needed her to rub his back and tell him it was all okay like she had done so many times before. He knew he was asking a lot, and to expect her to be fine with it and _help_ him sort this out - Merlin, she wouldn't even talk to him - would be nothing short of a miracle. But his mind was in agony and his heart was shattering into a million pieces. He couldn't understand, no matter how he looked at it.

Petunia _wasn't_ his type.

She was shallow-minded, arrogant, and a Muggle - through and through. He didn't _like_ her at all. But his _love_ for her thrummed in every fiber of his being and his body screamed her name whenever she was near, whenever she was mentioned. It made no sense. She was Lily's annoying older sister. He had heard horror stories about her for years. He had learned to hate her.

James rubbed a hand over his face and thought back to when this whole mess started. It was Lily's fault, his clichéd devil cackled, but the angel dismissed it because _no, it most certainly was not._ They had been cuddling by the Gryffindor fireplace over a weekend, and he had blurted out the words with no forethought as to their consequences.

"I think I love Petunia." He still cringed at the words. Where had he come up with that idea?

A stupid question. He knew the answer. It was the truth, no matter how he denied it.

Petunia wasn't his type, but she was better. She was beautiful, graceful, and sophisticated. She pulled the best out of him because she would only accept the best. She was so refreshingly _normal_ that there wasn't an air of expectancy with her: no pressure for him to become a great wizard, merely the pressure to be, because she didn't know any better. And he loved her.

He hoped Lily could understand, because he loved her too, just in a different way.


	13. Talking to Butterflies

**DeanLuna. Prompt: Dandelion dust.**

* * *

"Luna! There you are. I don't think you should be out here. Can we go back?" Dean pleaded, sneezing on the dandelion dust as he hiked the hill.

Luna seemed to not hear him. She was sitting cross-legged in front of a dandelion flower, elbows on her knees as she chatted contentedly with the butterfly perched there.

"Was it the fault of the Nargles?" she asked her sympathetically.

The butterfly dipped her antennae in acknowledgement and Luna_ tsk_ed. "Well, you can only stay positive. Frowning won't solve anything."

"Luna," Dean panted behind her. "Honey, do you really think the butterfly can understand you?"

The butterfly fluttered its wings and settled on a new flower. Luna turned to Dean, tilting her head quizzically. "Well, of course not. Whyever would you think she could?"

Dean gaped at her.

"I do believe we have Herbology right now. It seems we will be late," Luna told him, grabbing his hand and tugging him down the hill.

"Isn't it beautiful today?" she asked after a while.

Dean opened his mouth to remind her that it was gray and windy, but closed it with a sigh, shaking his head. "Yes, it's lovely." He leaned over and kissed her temple.

She smiled at him.


	14. The Brilliant One

**PansyLavender, prompt: yarrow.**

* * *

"For you," a voice whispered in Lavender's ear as a handful of flowers were thrust in front of her eyes.

Lavender smiled and sniffed the flowers, turning around with a grin. Pansy looked grim, resigned, like she always did when doing something romantic, but Lavender could see right through her.

"Daisies?" she asked.

"Yarrow," Pansy replied with a sneer, and Lavender smiled.

"Thank you."

Pansy grimaced. "Well, they were there, and they were too happy and ruining my mood," she whined. Lavender rolled her eyes. "So I decided to cut their lives -" Lavender grabbed her collar and kissed her.

Pansy turned red and looked around urgently. "Oh, is that Potions? Lucky you, I am top of the class!"

"Draco's top of the class. And then Hermione."

Pansy glared at her. "Well, I don't see either of them here helping you!"

Lavender laughed. "I'm sorry. Proceed, Oh Brilliant One."

Pansy smirked. "Thank you."


	15. The Path In The Stars

**BlaiseLuna. Prompt: 'stars.' Also written for the Title Boot Camp, and put in that collection.**

* * *

"I don't think the professors want us out here."

Blaise squeezed Luna's hand tighter, as if afraid she'd walk away without another word. "How else do they expect us to watch the stars?"

"I believe that is what the Astronomy Tower is for," Luna told him thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but this way the view is unrestricted," Blaise insisted. "Here, help me with the blanket."

She complied, looking at the blanket thoughtfully, and then blinked up at the stars. Blaise plopped down on the blanket, lying on his back and staring up at the beautiful girl who was not currently curled up by his side.

"Luna." She blinked at him, and he patted the space beside him. She smiled and sank down, resting her head on his stomach.

The silence stretched between them comfortably, and neither of them reached for their textbooks.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star," she mumbled. "How I wonder what you are." He chuckled a little, low and deep, hardly surprised. She smiled as her head vibrated with his vocal chords.

"Very poetic," he commented.

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme," she told him.

"Of course it is."

"Hmm. If you connect the dots, they create Howgarts," Luna commented happily. "Oh, look! There's us, walking up the path!" She pointed. Blaise squinted and tilted his head until his neck hurt, but he couldn't see it.

Luna could find the paths in the stars, because he was perfectly content to lay there with his fingers tangled in her hair.

"Should we start?" she asked after a bit of silence.

"Nah, girl, we need to appreciate the stars first," he told her.

She had taken the time to do just that when she was eight, but she thought maybe she wouldn't mind doing it again. As long as Blaise was so eager to, anyway.


	16. Whatever You Say

_a/n: LuciusLockhart, prompt: impatient. Also written for the Titles Set Boot Camp, with the title as a prompt._

* * *

"You're late," a harsh voice snapped the second Gilderoy stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. He rolled his eyes as he turned to the voice.

"No, you are early."

Lucius frowned. "Let's just get on with this. Mum looked suspicious." Gilderoy frowned back, but followed Lucius into Diagon Alley. They weaved between the crowds, avoiding each other's eyes purposefully as they maintained a firm yard between them at all times.

Distracted by a particularly nice set of robes in a store window, Gilderoy lost sight of Lucius' blonde hair, and spun around in a circle frantically. An arm darted out and yanked him from the street, and he found himself blinking up at annoyed gray eyes. Lucius released him and strode into Knockturn Alley without a backward glance. Frowning suspiciously at the patrons lurking on the dark street, Gilderoy rushed to follow him.

Lucius was already at the counter, hissing at the store owner, and he glared as Gilderoy approached.

Gilderoy peered down at the objects on the counter curiously, but Lucius covered them with his hand, and had the grace to finally look nervous.

He cleared his throat, and the action was so unlike him that Gilderoy _had_ to laugh. "Just show me already."

Lucius did some more frowning, and the store keeper bustled about loudly behind the counter. "These are the ones that I want, Gilderoy, and I - I just -"

"It's fine, Lucius. Whatever you want," Gilderoy assured him.

"That's not what I meant! Its a collaborative decision - I just want these ones!" Lucius insisted. Gilderoy raised his eyebrow and gestured for Lucius to move his hand. He heaved a long-suffering sigh as he complied.

The rings were silver snakes entwined, with blue jeweled eyes, and they were beautiful.

"Yes," Gilderoy said immediately.

"Whatever you say," Lucius replied and kissed him as the store owner dropped pens across the floor.

* * *

_Special thanks to my friend Jordan for doing absolutely nothing to help my writing process and distracting me with pointless conversation. :)_


	17. Pretty Locket

_RogerKatie, prompt: chocolate. Also written for the Titles Set Boot Camp, prompt: Pretty Locket. _

* * *

"Katie?"

Her head snapped up from the book on her lap, and she looked around. A man was walking towards her, enthusiasm and uncertainty warring on his face. "Katie Bell?" he repeated and oh, she knew his face...

"Roger Davies?" She jumped up and hugged him, ignoring the outstretched hand. It didn't matter that they hardly knew each other, even in school. The war had demanded unity, and by God, she would hug them all if given the chance. The Knight Bus turned sharply and they were flung four beds over in each other's arms. They laughed as they straightened themselves up.

"Wow, it's so good to see an old Hogwarts face!" he exclaimed, grasping her shoulder again. She didn't mind. "How long's it been?"

"Too long. I heard about your wife, Roger, I'm so sorry."

"Ah, yes. Thank you. It's been -"

"Daddy?" Wide brown eyes peeked at Katie from behind Roger.

"Oh, right! Sorry, love! Katie, this is my daughter, Addison. Addie, honey, this is Daddy's friend Katie, from school," Roger introduced, putting his arm around the tiny child beside him. Addie blinked at Katie, and her heart melted like those chocolate eyes she gazed into. The child couldn't be more than 4 years old.

"Hi, Addison," Katie smiled. Addie stared at her for a while, before crawling over Roger's lap to sit in front of her.

"Daddy bought me a locket today. At a muggle shop. It's a _locket_, look!" she pulled it out from where it had been hiding underneath her shirt. The chain was long and silver, and Addie proudly held it out for Katie.

Katie inhaled sharply and jerked away. Addie blinked, looking hurt.

"Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful, honey." And it was. "I just - I have a thing against necklaces," Katie tried to explain sheepishly.

Roger's eyes widened comically with understanding, and he grabbed Addie's wrist. "Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, Katie, I completely forgot -"

She laughed, quiet and reminiscent of Salvation Army bells, and touched his arm gently. "It's quite alright - I wouldn't expect you to remember a silly thing like that. It's no big deal, really. Me and necklaces just don't get along."

Addie frowned again. "It's a locket."

"It's a very pretty locket," Katie amended.

"Oi! Davies! Come on, then; it's your stop!" Stan shouted. Roger smiled sheepishly as he picked up their stuff.

"We - we should get together for tea. Catch up," he stuttered, ignoring as Addie tugged on his Muggle jeans impatiently.

"Absolutely! Oh, um -" Katie fumbled about in her bag. "Here's my card. Call me?" Oh, how she felt like a teenager again.

Roger smiled. "Absolutely."


	18. The Youth of Today

_PercyLavender, seashells. Also written for the Gemstone Competition under '__Ruby,' and the Titles Set Boot with 'The Youth of Today.'_

* * *

Waking up for the first time was the worst of it, probably. Staring at a white ceiling, in a state of inexplicable pain, unable to move even her head. A loud beeping sound interrupted the oppressive silence, and then oppressive _noise_ assaulted her ears and she screamed and screamed until firm hands soothed her.

A doctor came and talked to her in a scratchy, nasally voice about her memories, about what had happened. She had fallen off a balcony in a duel with a Death Eater during what they were calling 'The Battle of Hogwarts.' She had four crushed vertebra, two werewolf bites, and other various injuries, so they had put her in a state of paralysis until her bones could heal and her infections could be treated and/or cured, so no, Ms. Brown, you cannot move. She started screaming again and he left.

Time passed in slow, immeasurable waves, and she spent the time in uncertainty and worry. Mum came and hung a seashell wind chime above her bed, and she passed the days, hours, minutes with trying to make them move without her wand. The music it finally played was sweet and calming, but it was cut off by the sound of her curtains opening. Something was dragged, and then she heard a loud thump. "Brown," a voice acknowledged, and she huffed in exasperation at the silence that followed.

"Have some courtesy and tell the paralyzed chick who you are!" she snapped.

"Oh. Uh, Percy. Percy Weasley," a surprised voice told her. Her ex-flame's older brother. What the hell? "My bed's right next to yours. Wanna hear all the dead?" And he started reading. His voice cracked on "Fred Weasley," but he didn't talk about it so neither did she. She wondered how Ron was doing, and was surprised to find she held no animosity towards him, only worry. Percy told her what had happened after she went into her coma. He answered all her questions. He held her hand quietly while she cried.

A nurse came and shooed him back to his bed, and the lights shut off.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep. _

"Percy?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He cried, late that night when no one was supposed to be awake, and she never mentioned it. She cried too.


	19. Wanna Snog?

_CrabbeGoyle, 'homework.' Also written for Red, Blue, Green, and Purple in the Quelf Competition, and Onyx in the Gemstone Competition. Also written for Titles Set Boot, and the longer version can be found in my Ethereal Dances collection._

* * *

It's stupid, Crabbe thinks. What is the point of homework anyway? It doesn't _do_ anything. The teachers just read it and tell him if he's right. If they already know the answers, why do they need him to tell them what they are?

"- this whole time - that's what I heard." Giggles and annoying _girl_ voices filled the Common Room, and he huffed as he tried to sit up to yell at them.

"I just can't believe Goyle's _gay_!" someone said, and he fell back into the cushions with a gasp that was, thankfully, covered by more giggles.

"Well, I don't believe it. It's just a rumor," a haughty voice sniffed, and Crabbe readily agreed. Goyle would have told him. Right?

"So you are saying that _I_ started the rumor?" a voice that could only be Pansy's drawled. "He told me himself, _Millicent_."

"Yes, and you've always been completely honest, _Pansy._" Tense silence followed, and then -

"Has he really been in love with him this whole time, Pans?" And Crabbe was overwhelmed with the urge to know_. _

"Oh, no. Can you imagine being in love with him First Year?" More giggles. "He didn't know. _I_ think it was in Third Year."

"Is he going to tell him?" someone else wanted to know.

"God, no. Can you imagine how that conversation would go? 'Hey, Crabbe, buddy, my best friend,'" Pansy started in what was known as her 'mocking' tone, and Crabbe felt his mind freeze mid-reaction. "'I'm gay, and oh, yeah. I've been in love with you for about 4 years. Wanna snog?' Honestly, Tracey."

"Poor Goyle. Imagine being in love with _Crabbe_."

"He's not even hot," another voice agreed.

"Ah, but what he lacks in looks, personality, gracefulness, and mental acuity," Blaise chimed in, and Crabbe wondered absently where he had come from. "He makes up in the size of his stomach."

"Poor Goyle?!" Crabbe shouted, jumping up in a delay reaction as his mind finally caught up.

"I rest my case," Blaise smiled, but then looked stricken. "Crabbe -"

"Goyle's in love with me?! And none of you lot thought to tell me?!" Everyone gaped at him; Pansy sighed. "He - We - I - what am I supposed to do now?"

"That's why no one told you."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" he shouted again, and Goyle walked through the door of the Common Room, laughing. He stopped upon seeing Crabbe's face, and Draco ran into him with an _umph._

_"Goyle!"_

"What's wrong?" Goyle asked, rushing over to Crabbe's side. "What happened?" He glared at Pansy and Blaise, reaching for his wand.

"You - I -" Crabbe stuttered, and he could feel his face getting redder and redder as he gaped at his once best friend. "I can't believe you!" he finally shouted, and ran to his dormitory.

Goyle blinked at his retreating back. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"I'm not the one who fell in love with him," Pansy sniffed, and the Slytherins scattered.

_Oh -_

* * *

_Word count: 504. Forgive me?_


	20. No Rhymes or Reasons Here

_PadmaPansy and 'rhyme.'_

* * *

"He's totally in love with him - always has been!" Pansy complained. Padma smothered a smile with the rim of her mug.

"Honey, you are gayer than I am. What do you know about boys?"

"I lived with them for 8 years! Draco and Blaise, dey ma homies!" she insisted, assuming a horrible American accent. Padma laughed.

"Well, if Draco's been in love with Harry this whole time, he sure has a funny way of showing it."

"Obviously he couldn't just go up to The Boy Who Lived and say, 'Hey, wanna go out?'" Pansy scoffed.

"Maybe not," Padma acknowledged, turning back to her crossword (a typical Muggle morning activity, she was told). "But he could have been a bit nicer."

"Yeah, and Potter's always been a saint."

Padma didn't look up, but she was certain Pansy was rolling her eyes.

"Maybe not," Padma admitted. "Hey, help me out?" Pansy heaved a long-suffering sigh, but come to her side and peered over her shoulder. "It says, 'Love...' Two words, eleven letters." Pansy frowned at the wall for a long while, muttering various phrases under her breath.

"Love conquers all?" she supplied finally, and Padma smiled as she wrote it down. "You knew already? Then why did you ask?" Pansy huffed.

Padma grinned up at her. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

Pansy sighed again, but leaned down to kiss her anyway. She stopped halfway and jabbed at the paper. "I know that one!"

Padma frowned. "Which one?"

"'Now a phrase used in everyday language, Orlando says this to Rosalind in the Shakespeare play _As You Like It_.' It's eleven letters and two words - again. 'Neither...nor...' Hermione was telling me about this at the Ministry! Neither rhyme nor reason!" she exclaimed joyfully, doing a dance around the kitchen table.

Padma huffed and rolled her eyes. "You have no rhyme or reason..." she muttered, but Pansy grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her, finally.

Maybe she liked Pansy's whims after all.

* * *

_And that's the end! Wow. I'm sad now! It's been a good run!_


End file.
